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31 K ate G ale Signs and Flying The sign by the road lets go of its posts, floats upward. I grip the steering wheel. The wheels of the car grab the road, give up on flying or never wanted to. I have always wanted to fly, not like birds, more like white angels speaking the words of God. I speak words that cling to pavement. I want them to float like spider webs. Webs connecting us. I say to you, yes, and you say, yes, and the breath of our yeses spins gold through pale air. ...

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